Doctor, doctor....

my envelope won't stay sealed."

"Stick a plaster on it."

We're doing a mailout of questionnaires and I'm opening the replies at the moment. This one stood out, ahem, like a sore thumb.

As I write I'm beginning to question whether standards have fallen on here recently.... there are several ideas in the pipeline, I just never get them completed.

Not been on Eggheads yet.

Pigeon detectives

Here's one for CSI: Notting Hill, a pigeon hanging from a branch high up a tree.















Weird. It was in a churchyard off Ladbroke Grove. It's not very easy to see from the pic, but somehow the unfortunate bird has ended up hanging by the neck from a piece of thread that's ended up in the upper reaches of the tree. It's neck was properly broken and everything. Rubber neckers can click on the photo to make it all big.

Detectives at the scene admitted that they had few leads. However, conspiracy theorists were already discussing several possibilities. One interested observer person (who wished to remain anonymous) told Tombolablog:
"It has to be a revenge attack for the slaying of Cock Robin. That's the only explanation." The Police have been quick to dismiss this theory though. A statement released earlier said: "Although we are at an early stage of our enquiry, there is no evidence to suggest that this death is in any way associated with that of Cock Robin. As we all well know, the Sparrow confessed immediately to that crime, and that investigation is closed. As per his sentence, the Sparrow continues to do bird. We would also like to take this opportunity and calm local residents who may be afraid that this is the work of the Coo Klux Klan."

Smack my bitch up

I was in Paris over the weekend. Sure, the boulevards were nice, the Eiffel Tower stunning, l'Arc de Triomphe awesome. I might get around to putting up a picture or two. I think you'll agree though, the highlight had to be getting my mitts on these bad boys:

Admire the way that the photo makes them look almost as if they have beamed down from Heaven.

I've got a strange fascination with Smacks. As far as I'm aware, you can't get them in England (though I must confess my efforts couldn't really be described as exhaustive) but I remember eating them on European holidays as a kid. Last year in Australia & New Zealand I spent a lot of time nosing around the cereal aisle of various supermarkets and grocery stores. No joy. Happily though, the first supermarche I tried in Paris came up trumps. Hoorah! And best of all, they still taste good.

By the way, I've just learned that the Smacks frog is called 'Dig 'em'.

Hog's eye

Animal cruelty is no laughing matter. A previous occupant of our house was evidently very concerned about it as we regularly get post for her from The Dogs Trust, the RSPCA and a pony sanctuary in Devon.


However - let's face it, there's always an 'however/but' in these blogs isn't there? - this one that dropped on the doormat late last year (I've been a bit slack blogging recently - there are loads of them all backing up like planes above the airport in Die Hard 2) was a new one on me.

There's no reason why pigs should receive worse treatment than dogs or donkeys, so let's hear it for the mother pigs and their babies in 2007, which is the Chinese Year of the Pig after all.

Dude looks like a lady

Like all the best stories, this one is set in a male public toilet. A few weeks ago, I was in the Cotswolds. We had a walk up Cleeve Common (outside the village of Bishop’s Cleeve – which instantly got me chuckling about wizard’s sleeves) and on the way back down I needed to spend a penny (it was a cold day). I’m not a qualified expert yet, but the toilet was much like any other public one in a remote part of the countryside: pretty grotty, smelly and obviously popular with a certain demographic. For those familiar with the Viz Profanisaurus, there was a fine example of ‘Bosch’ on display in there. After inspecting the graffiti (which won’t be repeated here, but for anyone interested, Winchcombe public library seems to be the place to go) I washed my hands. Next to the sink was a brochure publicising ‘The Ultimate TV Experience’. I glanced at it, was a bit confused and wanted to learn more. And I did learn more. A whole lot more. It took a good amount of time for the penny to drop and the realisation that 'TV' did not refer to television....






























Tombolablog's favourite part is the line about sleeping and dreaming 'perchance a female dream' (point 9) . Beautiful!

For more info, click here, though it's pretty much everything that you get in the brochure.


Gentlemen, when the time comes, consider my stag do booked!